


Delicate

by inakindofdaydream



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Dancing in the Rain, Denial, East Village, Exchange Student, F/M, James is English, Lily is American, New York City, Pining, Songfic, Sooooo many references, Taylor Swift - Freeform, and justly ridiculed, at first, briefly, count them all!, delicate, petals day 2k18, sex only, tw nazis are mentioned?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 16:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15867081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inakindofdaydream/pseuds/inakindofdaydream
Summary: Is it cool that I said all that? Is it chill that you're in my head? 'Cause I know that it's delicateLily and James meet at the wrong time. He's only in the country for the school year and she's busy knocking elbows while fighting for causes she believes in. They can't make each other any promises. They can't promise they won't fall for each other.





	Delicate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PetalsToFish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetalsToFish/gifts).



> For the lovely Petals (who doesn't have an ao3 lol) on her birthday. You were my first friend here and why I'm in fandom. I love you, Happy Birthday!!!

 

**May, Spring Semester**

_9:38pm_

 

The lights were off, the blackout curtains were pulled shut, and the fan was on. The light and sounds of the city, of the bustling night, were kept at bay by clever but subtle room arrangements made by a girl who had trouble sleeping. Lily was laying in bed, eyes closed, but she wasn’t sleep. She was waiting.

 

_Buzz._

 

Her phone lit up, cutting through the black.

 

* * *

 

**September, Fall Semester**

 

“Fuck this,” she exclaimed, dramatically throwing her head back against the cupboards from where she was sitting on the floor.

 

Lily set the bottle of whiskey down with a loud thunk. From either lack of strength or the incompetence that so often comes with intense frustration, she hadn’t been able to open the damn thing. This left her with the option of finding someone else to open it, or settling for the shit beer that made her think of a dog drinking from the toilet bowl. While one was vastly preferable to the other, both options required that she emerge from the kitchen and rejoin the crowd in the living room, something she _did not_ want to do. Their tinny voices and brassy laughter rang through to the kitchen and grated against her nerves. _They_ were all fine with the piss-beer. She closed her eyes and tried to wish herself away. “Everyone hates me.”

 

“Do they?” A tall stranger walked into the small kitchen, catching her complaint. She startled, but quickly recovered.

 

“Yes.” She lifted her hands to offset her speech with quotations. “I’m ‘disagreeable’ and ‘flake out on plans.’” She let her arms fall to her sides again. “AND YET -- here I am. In Brooklyn. Of all places.”

 

“Of all places,” he repeated. “So are you going to open that bottle? Or were you planning on hitting someone in the head with that?”

 

“Funny,” she said as she moved to stand. “Guns, no, but whiskey bottles? We should start handing them out to kindergarten teachers.”

 

“So you’re into direct action, then.”

 

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me.”

 

“Should I have?”

 

“I’m that bitch who ‘won’t shut up about the issues and have fun,’” she said, using air quotes again. “Though, if _fun_ is hiding in the kitchen of some Brooklyn apartment, trying and failing to open a damn bottle of cheap whiskey, then maybe I’m not supposed to be a fun person.”

 

“Oh, let me,” he said, taking the bottle in his hands and twisting off the cap with a smooth turn of the wrist.

 

Her face lit up. “Thank you, Sir Lancelot.” She took the bottle in one hand and fished a couple of solo cups out of the bag on the counter.

 

“Right, because I’m English.”

 

“Um, because you’re my knight in shining armor?” She gestured with the bottle. She handed him a cup before pouring herself a generous amount and returning it to the counter replacing the top.

 

“Neat?” he questioned when she neglected to add any soda or water.

 

“It’s that kind of night.” She took a long sip, then looked at him and cocked her head. “But you’re right, you do talk funny.”

 

“ _I_ talk funny?”

 

“Oh, don’t get me with the whole ‘we invented the language’ nonsense, when we all know that English ransacked all the other languages, and now we’re left with this weird gibberish.” She took another drink.

 

“I think my gibberish makes a bit more sense.”

 

“I'll bet it makes you a bit more of a hit at parties, but ‘sense’ went out of style a long time ago.”

 

“Thank God for whiskey, then.”

 

“Hmm?” she said over the lip of her cup.

 

“Whiskey is timeless.”

 

“Whiskey will never go out of style,” she agreed with a smile, then frowned as she looked down into her cup. “It’s gone!”

 

He laughed at her shock, “Must have really been one of those days.”

 

She unscrewed the top, without issue this time, to pour herself another glass. “Well, you know, I try to maintain a work-life balance to keep me sane. Without that hour-long subway ride and passive-aggressive frenemies to look forward to at the end of the week, I don’t think I could make it through the day.”

 

“I’m good, thanks,” he declined when she lifted the bottle in his direction, so she set it down again.

 

“Well, I won’t keep you from showing off your party trick.” She raised her cup in his direction. “Cheers, mate.”

 

He smirked. “I don’t think it’s serving me too well. You’re not the only one hiding in the kitchen and breaking into the good stuff, after all.”

 

“I’m sure you just need to give it the old college try.”

 

“It’s not been working on you, so…”

 

She bit back a smile and narrowed her eyes as she considered him. “Cheeky.”

 

* * *

 

**May, Spring Semester**

_8:46pm_

 

She and Marlene had gone for nachos after the rally, which had quickly lead to them ordering and finishing a pitcher of margaritas. The world was a scary and angry place, and it was making Lily scarier and angrier with it. So she always appreciated the opportunity to let tequila and friendship ease the tension that built up from living day-to-day.

 

Lily was tired of yelling at people on the internet, arguing with the administration, and of the everyday battle that was walking down the street or reading the damn news. It was hard trying to care so much and harder still being resented for caring.

 

It didn’t help that her world seemed to be living on countdown. To nuclear war, impeachment, graduation, the end of the semester, or the end of the margarita pitcher when Marlene would head home and Lily would finally let herself check her phone to be either elated or heartbroken.

 

She shuffled through a few email notifications from the dean and various club eboards, some less-than-savory twitter mentions, and a seamless review request, all of which she decided she could ignore until later. She opened a Snap from Mary of her adorable new foster pup, but there were no other messages.

 

Which was for the best, if she thought about it. She wasn’t expecting anything, since he hadn’t promised they’d do something. But, her heart plummeted as she took a deep breath and began the walk back towards her apartment.

 

* * *

 

**October, Fall Semester**

 

You can really only see the side of her face. Her hair is in a braid, and the signs she’s holding cover most of her body. You can hear the both of them, though... especially him.

 

Her voice is already hoarse from chanting, and her shrieks don’t even sound like her. She’s not immediately identifiable, but everyone knew it was her. Who else would get into a screaming match with her ex-friend at an immigration policy protest? Who else would have the bad luck for it to get filmed and posted on the internet?

 

Sometimes, there are people who you meet the first day of orientation and you click instantly. Sometimes, it’s just a matter of nerves and convenience, and you meet more people in your classes or school clubs or city clubs.

 

It had long been obvious which scenario she considered the truth and which he’d clung to so hard that he’d followed her down to the protest. To yell at her for getting involved with ‘these people.’ To accuse her of betraying him and their country for ‘those people.’ But he didn’t use the euphemisms. He was calling her names that he’s never used to refer to her, but she’d heard him use for others.  

 

The internet found his name quickly enough, and quickly after he wasn’t her problem or even the university’s anymore. But then, her own involvement was up for judgement and scrutiny by those on his side or hers. People came up to her in the library or on the sidewalk. They messaged her on Facebook or Instagram. Sometimes, they threw the same awful words he used at her. Sometimes, they said she was just looking for attention and importance. Sometimes, they were just offended by her temper, her fight.

 

She’s all of a sudden got a big reputation on a big campus in a big city. All she wants to do is crawl into a hole (maybe Brooklyn?) with a bottle of whiskey and forget about herself and her problems.

* * *

**May, Spring Semester**

_9:14pm_

 

She stopped when she finally made it into her lobby and stared up the daunting staircase of her walkup. It was a hurdle that had often dictated the amount of her coming and going from the apartment. She counted to ten, then began her climb.

 

The steep, winding stairs gave her time to sort through the feelings and doubts squirming inside her. Away from the distracting lights and noises and ever present hope that her phone would buzz, they fell into place with each step higher.

 

It was the uncertainty. That was at the center of her uneasiness. Not only whether she’d see him, but also how she would feel when she did see him. The thought flitted across her mind again, that maybe she could message _him,_ but she was already climbing the stairs. Over time, the glorious warmth and giddiness she found in his presence was overcome with the looming fact that he would leave. And he would forget. The fact that every time she tried to hold on one second longer, he pulled away. Their extended fling was a careful balance, and she was about ready to topple over.

 

She made it into her apartment, flinging her keys into the tray by the door and kicking off her shoes, before collapsing on her bed.

 

She knew exactly what she’d end up doing. She wouldn’t protect her delicate heart. She’d hand it over to him gladly and watch as he climbed on a plane home and it shattered.

 

But until then, she’d smile and caress him as though the moments they had were enough.

 

* * *

 

**November, Fall Semester**

 

“So, this is what you’re like when you aren’t being blackmailed into the Outer Boroughs.”

 

She turned around to face the speaker, her lips spreading into an involuntary grin when she saw who it was.  “This is what I’m like when midterms are finished and I didn’t have to cross a body of water to get a drink.”

 

When she’d finally left Brooklyn that night she met him at the party, hours later than intended, she’d been so drunk on the memory of his face (and also a healthy amount of whiskey) that she’d forgotten to send a passive aggressive text to Laura about their argument until the next day. Despite having enjoyed his company (more than enjoyed, really) and considering how much she’d thought about him since, there was an unsettling squirm in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t seen him in almost a month.

 

He was still smiling, and she realized that this was the first she’d seen of him since the damned clip hit the internet. She’d gotten everyone else’s opinion on it, so she steeled herself to take in his next. Would he go the ‘unprofessional’ route? Or the ‘why can’t you just calm down for once’ one?

 

But, instead, he asked her about midterms and the blow out that Laura had thrown immediately after the Orgo exam.

 

“Couldn’t be swayed across the East River again?” he asked.

 

“As much fun as it is to party with stressed out pre-med students just as they crack and go wild, I haven’t seen Laura in a while,” she admitted.

 

“Oh, I thought I might have missed you or something, seeing as you’re friends and all.”

 

“Well,” she said and weighed her words carefully. If he was avoiding her 15 minutes of internet infamy that was all well and good, but she wanted it over with. She also didn’t want to sound like a whiny brat, complaining about girl drama. She didn’t want to have to explain that girl drama was very serious, thank you very much. She wanted him to keep smiling at her.

 

“Laura and I have had a conscious uncoupling following disagreement over the, um, the notoriety of my… politically polarizing extracurricular activities.”

 

He stared at her then burst out laughing. She was glad she wasn’t sitting on the floor this time, because she suddenly felt like crawling into a ball so small she disappeared. No matter what, she couldn’t let _him_ know that.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, and his laughter tapered off. “Is that your prepared statement? Did you get a law student to help you write it?”

 

“No,” she said.

 

“You could have just said she’s a bitch.”

 

“She was my best friend since freshman year!” Old sympathy made her defensive.

 

“Not anymore, you’ve ‘consciously uncoupled.’”

 

“Still.”

 

“If someone’s going to give you shit about standing up to a Nazi, the nicest thing I could call her is a bitch.”

 

So there that was.

 

He must have seen the look on her face because he asked, “That’s what you meant, right? She was giving you crap about the video?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, that’s rubbish, that is. You’re actually out there doing things and… bollocks…”

 

It was Lily’s turn to laugh.

 

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” She felt relief wash over her. “I’ve got plenty of non-Nazi sympathizer friends to keep me company.”

 

She really shouldn’t have been this happy while discussing Nazis, but she’d be lying to herself if she claimed she hadn’t been harbouring a hope to see him again. That he’d like her for more than a few quips and a bottle of whiskey. For her, as she was now, viral or not, 21 with her feet on the ground and not just the shy 18-year-old in the city for the first time.

 

“Well, I’m James Potter,” he said, sticking his hand out like he was at an interview, “and I’d love to join the number.”

 

She bit back the laugh that threatened to burst out at his formality. “Lily Evans,” she said, mimicking his form and extending her hand to his. How had they not exchanged names back in Brooklyn? She would have asked Laura afterwards, but…

 

“Welcome to the Resistance.”

__________

She’d snuck through one of the windows of an empty bedroom onto the fire escape, hoping he’d follow. He had. They were sitting with their backs against railing on the side of the platform, so they could look down the avenue, watching cars and people go by as the sun went down and clouds rolled in.

 

Their conversation had flowed easily. Though she couldn’t help from excusing herself to find Marlene when she texted Lily to alert her arrival and then pointedly dodging him in the crowded apartment, just to see if he’d find her again. Oh, she wanted him, but she didn’t want the whispers and sniggers that would follow if she monopolized the Hot British Guy. She wasn’t in the mood to garner any more attention.

 

She caught his eye before ducking into the room and leaving the door slightly ajar. He was clever enough to catch her meaning, but his suaveness dropped and was replaced by a goofy grin when he joined her on the platform.

 

“I feel like we’re in a film.”

 

“Is this _West Side Story_ or _Pretty Woman_?”

 

“Doesn’t _Pretty Woman_ take place in LA?”

 

“Oh, you’re right,” she said, “Rodeo Drive all that.”

 

“Besides, we’re star-crossed, of two rival houses, two sides of the pond.”

 

She sniggered, “We’re on the wrong side of Manhattan for one thing, but also, haven’t Britain and the US enjoyed a “Special Relationship” nowadays? I guess they kissed and made up after that whole misunderstanding about independence. We even steal your television shows, your soccer stars, rock bands, Shakespeare! I don’t think this is a star-crossed situation.”

 

He laughed and Lily took the opportunity to slide closer to him.

 

They watched the autumn sun fall farther in the sky and set the world ablaze. She hoped the light hid the blush that rose in her cheeks when she caught him gazing at her hair, tresses of flames that fell across her shoulders and followed a heat that ran down to her toes. She kept moving closer and closer. Their banter and flirting slowed. She couldn’t manage anything but looking at his face.

 

_Gorgeous._

 

She waited. It was inevitable.

 

Wasn’t it?

 

He was hesitating. She could tell.

 

“You don’t have anyone back home waiting on you, do you?” she asked.

 

His gaze sharpened. “No.”

 

“Good,” she said and tilted her head up.

 

“Do you?” he asked, interrupting her approach.

 

She bristled slightly. “No, not anymore,” she said.

 

“Anymore?”

 

She huffed before rushing through an explanation.”There’s nothing dramatic. He moved. Long distance was never going to work. We’re fine.” He was looking at her with an intensity that was unsettling rather than encouraging. They’d lost the moment. “Look, I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m gonna get another drink.”

 

She made to stand, but he beat her to it. He stood in front of the window, blocking her way back into the apartment. She gave him a frown, which he returned with a curious look she didn’t have the patience to place.

 

His face flashed through more indecipherable expressions before finally settling on a calm determination.

 

His voice was even in a way that stood out against of both of their obvious discomfort. Lily was willing to follow his lead when he announced, “So, here’s what we can do.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“We can go inside so I can make you a drink and we can keep talking - or we can stay out here.”

 

“What’s out here?”

 

He took a step away from the window and towards her. “A quick escape.”

 

“You want to leave?” She was shocked and didn’t move as he slowly brushed past her to step down the rickety stairs of the fire escape.

 

He turned to look up at her, flashing that grin that haunted her dreams even when she managed to stop thinking about it every waking moment. “You didn’t want to stay, did you?” He asked like he already knew the answer. Which he apparently did, because she reached out her hand to let him lead her down to the street.

 

The thrill of their getaway was short lived, however. They had not walked more than a couple blocks, too buzzed with adrenaline to have decided on a new course of action, when the rain came pouring down in buckets.

 

Lily shrieked, James grabbed her hand, and they both set off running towards the nearest shop awning to hide under.

 

“I don’t think I’ve been caught in the rain since I was back in England!” he exclaimed over the sound of the rain pounding the pavement.

 

“The States have made you soft,” she teased.

 

“Do you think we could wait it out?” he asked.

 

She considered, then answered honestly. “Maybe, maybe not.”

 

“Well, here’s what we can do.”

 

“You always know your options, huh?”

 

“I’m a problem solver.”

 

“So what’s the sitch?”

 

“If you think it’s possible, we could wait out the storm. Or, we could make a run for the L station a few blocks down.”

 

“I’ve not come this far to be held hostage by the weather.”

 

“Excellent.” He grinned. “On three, then?”

 

“Three.”

 

She took off.

_______________

 

They were laughing as they finally fell through the door. He’d left the fan on, and the cool air raised the hair on their wet skin.

 

“It’s freezing.”

 

“I know,” he said, walking over to flick off the fan and open the window to let in some of the warm summer night. “Do you want something dry?” he asked.

 

“Yes, please,” she said, rubbing up and down on her arms with her hands.

 

She followed him to his room, minding the furniture and what she assumed were his roommates’ sneakers on the floor. They hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights with the light from the street coming through the open blinds, but through his doorway, they were met with darkness again.

 

He was close, so close that she hoped he couldn’t see into her mind and the chaos he created inside. She lifted a hand to catch his on the light switch and slowly leaned over his outstretched arms to close the space between them. They could put on dry clothes later.

 

He was shy with her, never seeking without her leading. Months of pining and anticipation meant she wasn’t about to move slow and could only hope that he was ready for it. The chill on their wet skin quickly warmed as they peeled off their soaked clothing and she pulled him ever closer. She wanted him, as much as she could get of him, wanted to be lit up by those sparks that flew whenever he smiled. She pulled back and gave him her own smile, searching with her eyes.

 

For a moment, she pretended that this was the start of something, that she wasn’t being reckless, even as she could see the end. Were the girls back home reckless? The girls who he had pasts and potentially futures with -- would they reach for him and touch him with a hopeless greed like she did?

 

In the next moment, a grin spread across his face, and she knew he was hers. For now, at least. For the night.

 

For now, she could pretend it was enough.

 

* * *

 

**May, Spring Semester**

_9:20pm_

 

_If he texts to see me tonight I’ll tell him._

 

Tell him what exactly? About her feelings? The list of excuses that had held her back all these months?

 

She had to tell him the truth. Because, call it what you want, she was lying to herself and to James.

 

The truth was that she wanted their story to keep going. She wanted to reset the countdown that was always ticking in the back of her mind from when he was leaving to when she would see him again. She wanted to hold his hand and laugh with him in daylight hours just as a often as they did under the moonlight.

 

She wanted to make all the promises that seemed foolish but threatened to burst past the seam of her lips time and time again.

 

She could lay it out there. Take the leap and trust he’d catch her.

 

 _Buzz._ Her heart leapt.

 

When Lily reached the ground level and stepped out the door of her building she realized it had started raining. She couldn’t muster any annoyance, however. In a walk-up apartment, it was upstairs or downstairs, inside or out, and she was already standing under the streetlamp, the droplets quickly soaking through her dress, committed to the journey she’d have to make without running up the many flights to retrieve an umbrella. She started down the street.

 

She walked with at a comfortable pace, spread her arms out and tilting her face back when she waited to cross the avenues, smiled at the pedestrians who gave her looks for not cowering from the rain like they did. She wiped under her eyes and thanked her lazy morning self that she hadn’t bothered with too much eye makeup.

 

She passed the subway entrance, remembering how they’d legged it through a different rain storm and shivered the air conditioned car to his West Side apartment. She didn’t go down today though. It was only a couple of extra avenues over and she was relishing her walk and rain and how she felt clean of her doubts and fears for the first time in a year. What a glorious feeling, to be happy again. She always started skipping, but stopped when she slipped on her wet shoes and giggled at herself instead.

 

She indulged herself in another spin before stopping at another corner. Across the street was the bar where James was waiting for her in the back.

 

* * *

 

**December, Winter Break**

 

She lay on his bed while he packed. He walked back and forth between his small closet and the open suitcase that lay by her feet.

 

He turned back from the closet to face the bed and paused in thought.

 

“Are you going to pack me up next?” she joked. Then sucked in a breath, waiting for his answer. They didn’t talk much about England other than the occasional jest or remark that served more towards humor than getting to know anything about where he came from. She definitely didn’t want to make it sound like she thought he’d take her one day. She was already worried about the three weeks he’d be gone. From the city, from her. Was it too soon to make those kind of jokes?

 

He stalked over to the edge of the bed, his eyes sending tingles up her spine. Then he grabbed her ankle and pulled her towards him, even as she shrieked with laughter, until her feet fell to the floor on either side of him and he caught her by the shoulders.

 

Looking down at her face, he quirked a brow and said, “You want to be my stowaway?”

 

She smirked up at him. “Not particularly, but they don’t make girls like me in the old country.”

 

“No,” the corner of his mouth curled up, “they don’t.” He bent down and caught her lips, brushing them in lazy, practiced moves, eventually getting on his knees at the edge of the mattress where she sat. Now that he was within reach, she traced up and down his back, shoulders, and through his hair, memorizing him. She let herself be happy, and smiled against lips when he tugged at the tie in her hair. He was warm and he was here and there were whole hours left before he took a cab to JFK.

 

The thought brought her back to the present, just as James’ hands slid out of her hair, down her thighs, and started to push her knees farther apart.

 

She pushed him back by the shoulders. Squeezing her eyes shut and cursing herself silently. When she opened them a breath later, she saw his mouth was still hanging open, but his eyes were widened with confusion. It wasn’t something she’d been shy about before. She couldn’t resist the vulnerability caught in his face and the way she’d left his hair mussed, so she stole one last quick kiss from his soft lips.

 

“You need to finish packing,” she said in low, breathless voice, glancing at the half empty suitcase beside them.

 

He watched her face for a moment before asking, “Are you sure?”

 

“Mmhmm,” she hummed. She slid back up the mattress and grabbed her phone, unlocking it and scrolling through a random app. She could tell he was staring, so she looked up and sent him the sunniest smile she was able, before turning back to the phone and gluing her eyes to the screen for the next half hour.

 

When he finally zipped his suitcase shut, she mentioned food before he could say anything.

 

“We do have pizza in the UK.”

 

“They ‘have pizza’ in Chicago -- it’s not remotely the same thing and you know it.”

 

“Okay.”

 

They watched the British _Office,_ and James shushed Lily when she cried “ _Bilbo!”_  They switched to _Law and Order_ and tried to see who could best mimic the sound effect with little success. James let her rant about violence against women in New York. Lily let him berate American gun laws. They were good together, thought Lily. They hardly talked anymore when they saw each other. The corners of parties were hardly ideal for pizza arguments or steady breathes on her neck when he rested his head on her shoulder as they watched the laptop screen. When they were alone, they didn’t usually spend much time with talking.

 

When she started yawning he closed the laptop and offered for her to stay the night. She went to the bathroom and swished around some mouthwash and splashed her face with water. She pulled on the shirt he’d laid out for her as climbed under the comforter. She’d never stayed over before, and felt awkward waiting for him. She turned to face the wall.

 

She’d managed to doze by the time he came in and flicked off the lights. Probably assuming she was asleep, he slid into bed behind her, brushed back her hair and planted a sweet kiss behind her ear. She stopped breathing, and listened as he settled in, feeling his warmth emanate across the deliberate inch he left between them.

 

She rolled over, skating her hand up his chest to the side of his face so she could turn his face toward her. She gave him a moment to read her intention in her eyes before she threw her leg over his and crashed her mouth hungrily into his.

 

Early the next morning she waited on the sidewalk with him for the rideshare to come and take him to the airport. He gave her a brief kiss goodbye that did nothing to take away the heaviness settling in her chest before he climbed into the back seat and she turned to walk to the subway.

___________

 

Lily waited until Petunia and her parents weren’t in the room to look over her shoulder and ask questions, albeit with different agendas, to guiltily scroll through the apps on her phone. He was tagged in a few photos of his parents picking him up from the airport. His mother had his same golden skin and his father sported a grey but similarly spirited mop of hair. There was a long haired boy with them who she thought she might had heard of from the odd time James shared something about himself and England. She found his twitter and smiled as she read through a long thread narrating the wait in the terminal and their blissful reunion.

 

She kept scrolling and laughed at similarly long winded but amusing tweets until she found that he had retweeted the video. That video. Of her. Or, well, the side of her face. He’d added a colorful comment that criticized the other party, which was nice to see. There was, in fact, a few back and forths in the replies that moved from colorful to heated. She wondered fleetingly if he knew who she was, until she saw that James had replied. She’d never seen it before. She begrudgingly used social media as a community tool but had avoided it in the last month for obvious reasons.

 

 _Mate…_ Was all it said.

 

So obviously his friend knew that James knew her. She assumed James asked him to stop interacting with the internet trolls, because there weren’t anymore replies from him on the thread. But what had he said? The silver tongued Sirius Black had never tweeted at _her._ Had he seen her various profiles? Did he know about her and James’... relationship? Or just that she was someone at the same university as him? What did those damn ellipses mean, anyway?

 

She tapped out of twitter. A good decision, if she hadn’t immediately opened instagram next.  Back when she’d first met James, or when she’d first gotten his name, she’d gone through his pictures and devoured images of him with a thirst she couldn’t quench. He didn’t often update, maybe a handful of posts throughout the last semester, and most of those cliche shots of city landmarks, but there were two new ones from the break. One was a repost of the picture of him and his family at the airport, the second was a picture of him and a group of his friends at what looked like a booth at a pub. The caption read _Marauders Reunion...and the lovely Emma._ There was Sirius to his right, looking well pleased with himself, a thin sandy-haired haired boy with a sly smile to his right, and a laughing blonde to the left of James. Her cheeks were rosy from the cold or the drink, and she was the very image of an English Rose. Lily immediately clicked to her page.

 

Emmeline Vance, Emma to her friends, who all seemed to be James’ friends as well, was moderately funny, moderately stunning, and fully English. She’d posted a picture a year back of James asleep in the library. James, glasses askew, cheek pressed again the page, and a pencil dangling from his fingers, endearingly took the forefront, but you could see hints of history in the columns and arches in the background.  

 

Lily knew she didn’t need to be jealous, didn’t have a right to be jealous, if she considered the particulars, but it hardly mattered. Emma Vance with her honey hair and sugary smile represented everything that was England and not New York. Everything that came before her and would still be there after her. Lily was too loud, too passionate, too American.

 

She was spiraling, on Christmas, no less. This wasn’t for the best. Despite the formal atmosphere of the Evans household, Lily loved Christmas and had been overjoyed that they had waited for her return to set up the tree and house decorations. The small wreath she put on the door to her room in New York didn’t match the seven foot tree with all its trimming that took up half the Evans living room every December. She’d even managed to get Petunia to join her in singing “In the Bleak Midwinter,” though she’d stormed out of the room the third time Lily played “Wrapped in Red.” it was a wonderful time of year -- for once she didn’t have to worry about her hair clashing with anything.  

 

She went back to James’ page and zoomed in on the three lads. She’d heard of Sirius and Remus, the sandy-haired one, from the stories of youthful shenanigans that James told her when it was late and they were tired but happy and babbling about nothing. She wished she could know them. She was wishing for a lot of things that you couldn’t put on a Christmas list.

 

* * *

 

**May, Spring Semester**

_10:23pm_

 

She hadn’t seen him in a week, and somehow that was enough time for her to forget the butterflies that rioted in her stomach when she saw him across a room.

 

A few people made a comment on her appearance, she was probably dripping on everyone that walked by her

 

She stayed back for a moment, hidden by the dim lighting and the other bodies crowded in front of the bar waiting for the bartender to take their order. James was standing in front of one of the booths that bordered the pool table. It was dark and dingy and the neon lights decorating the brick walls casting a multicolored glow on his skin.

 

 _I like you._ It was simple now. _I want you._

 

* * *

 

**January, Winter Break**

 

It was so late at night that it might be considered early, but Lily couldn’t sleep. She felt ridiculous for being unable to stop _missing_ him. She missed the city, was more likely. Petunia’s cold shoulder and her parents affections but lack of understanding felt even more isolating now that she knew a different life. She’d be back in New York in a week. She should think about that. Not wondering if he ever thought of her for an instant, maybe, when he wasn’t doing pub crawls or Christmas pageants or walking down Oxford Street and all the exciting English things she didn’t know anything about. When he was full to the brim with laughter and smiles, surrounded by people who’d been important to him for years, would there even be time to remember her?

 

She flopped onto her other side, trying to shake off the thoughts of a Dickensian yuletide celebration. She’d had a pleasant Christmas. She could call up Benjy for coffee and a chat before they both headed back to school. Petunia would probably be out of the house with that walrus she was dating. Then, before she knew it, she’d be back in the city that never sleeps, and not have to worry about warm, hazy dreams that left her heart racing when she awoke. The mornings here were too quiet, she had too much room to think.

 

She hadn’t heard him other then the short “ _Happy Christmas,”_ she’d sent and the “ _Merry Christmas, Evans”_ she’d gotten in return. Vaguely, she considered the time difference before grabbing her phone off the nightstand.

 

_Hey_

 

She typed out it and hit send before she could overthink it. _Hey, is it cool that you’re in my head all the damn time?_

 

 _All right, Evans?_ James responded quickly.

 

Lily pressed her reddening face into her pillow.

 

_I’m bored, let’s grab a drink_

 

_Aces, I’ll meet you in the back_

 

* * *

 

**May, Spring Semester**

_10:25pm_

 

She giggled as she looked him up and down.

 

“What?” he asked.

 

“I love the look,” she answered, grinning at his shoes.

 

“I don’t see what’s so amusing about a pair of trainers.”

 

“They aren’t _trainers_ ,” she corrected. “You’re wearing _sneakers._  On a _night out.”_

 

“Well, _someone_ was poking fun at my Oxfords. So, I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone by appeasing her and assimilating to the local culture at the same time.”

 

“Aren’t _I_ a ‘bird’? Why are you throwing rocks at me?”

 

He covered his face with his hand in frustration. “I’m not letting you bait me. I refuse.”

 

She continued to trace his form with a mischievous look in her eyes. “I like your jeans,” she said in a low voice.

 

“Take casual dressing, but you cannot make any sort of American claim on jeans. I swear, I bought these years ago at Westfield -”

 

“Not what I meant.”

 

“Then, what are you on about?”

 

She stepped closer to him so that she could run a hand from the back of his denim covered thigh up to his waistband. “I just like them.”

 

He finally got the message and brought his own hand up to her waist to pull her flush against him.

 

“I like your dress,” he said. She laughed into his shoulder because she could already feel the rainwater soaking into his shirt.

 

She tilted her lips to his ear. “I only wore it so you could take it off.”

 

This close, she could feel as well as hear the low rumble her words elicited. She closed her eyes and let her body melt into him.

 

* * *

 

**March, Spring Semester**

 

_Bliss._

 

Her body was tingling, and her lips were spread in an open smile as she gasped, finally catching her breath. She felt his deep laugh reverberate where they were still entangled before his hand skimmed up her side, delved back into the nest he’d made of her hair, and pulled her face close for another languid kiss.

 

When he got up, she nuzzled her face into the pillows as she waited for her turn in the bathroom. She couldn’t stop smelling him, smelling _them_ , their heat and sweat and _oh god I like him._ She must, if she was getting sentimental about some smelly sheets.

 

When she re-entered her room minutes later, she found him already pulling on his pants - or _trousers_ rather, his _pants_ already in place.

 

“The train’s not coming for a while yet.”

 

He looked up at her. “Oh,” he said, “Right then.” He sat back down on the bed. “I was just going to call an Uber actually, but yeah, I forget that the trains keep running.”

 

She nodded slowly as she crawled up the mattress to where he sat. “Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?” she teased, doing her best to keep her voice light and flirtatious.

 

“No,” he said. “It’s just that it’s late.”

 

“Mhmm.” She slid her hands up to his shoulders and, with the slightest pressure, guided him down next to her. He hadn’t gotten the chance to replace his shirt, so she let her fingers graze up and down his chest, waiting for its rise and fall to slow. Her own eyelids began to flutter closed.

 

Then he sat up.

 

“What time is it?” he asked, even as he grabbed his phone to check himself. The trains ran more or less every half hour this time of night, but she hadn’t realized that much time had gone by. He pulled his shirt on and grabbed his jacket before she could prop herself up enough to reach for him.

 

She grabbed the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled his face around to hers. “Stay,” she breathed, staring at his lips, too scared to look him in the eye.

 

He studied her for a moment but then leaned in for a sweet kiss and pulled back with a smile. “You’re too sleepy for me to stay.” He didn’t realize what she’d meant.

 

_Stay here, I don’t wanna share._

 

She didn’t just want his nights. She wanted his mornings and afternoons, too. There was a finite number of days he’d be within her reach, and she didn’t want to let go.

 

He slunk out quietly, but she still heard his footsteps echoing in the empty hall and down the stairs.

 

* * *

 

**May, Spring Semester**

_11:11pm_

 

“I know you’re leaving soon--” she started.

 

“We don’t have to talk about it, you don’t need to start this,” he interrupted, taking a step back. It had stopped raining, but the streets were still clearer than they otherwise might have been. “We can just have a fun time it’s...fine.”

 

It was the last thing she wanted to hear, but she saw something familiar hiding in his eyes. So she took a deep breath and went on.

 

“ _I_ do need to do this,” she told him.

 

“All right, Evans.”

 

“I want to do this.”

 

“I know, it’s okay, go ahead.”

 

“No, I mean this,” she gestured between the two of them, “Us.”

 

He looked at her.

 

“James, I want all of it, not just the fun parts or the easy parts,” she said, “I want you.”

 

“Lily…” he said. She took a step toward him and smiled when his hands skimmed up her arms and neck and took her face between them.

 

“You’re not going to change your mind, are you?” he finally asked, but there was already a tone of resignation in his voice. He was already expecting her to give the wrong answer, though she still wasn’t sure which one that was. Honesty was the only card left to play.

 

“No,” she said simply. Then, because she couldn’t help it, because she was in love with him, she pulled him close and kissed him.

 

It was a kiss that would haunt her even when he was a ocean away. It was a kiss that summed up all the laughter they’d shared under the city lights on starless nights. She kissed him, and she knew.

 

“Are you… are we… okay then?” she asked, excited, but still shy.

 

“Did you think we wouldn’t be?”

 

“It’s just that, we… this... It’s complicated.” She saw him roll his eyes. “It’s delicate,” she amended.

 

“Is it?”

 

“Isn’t it?”

**Author's Note:**

> This took so long to write, but I'm really proud of it. Find me on tumblr at inakindofdaydream


End file.
